Saturday, June 28, 2008

Ah, it's been long overdue for me to write something about this topic for a long time. Treat it as a love letter dedicated to who I really am. In case you have kind and consoling words regarding the matter at hand, spare me from them.

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I am a loser. No shit. Always have, always will be.

It all started when I was still in grade school. People picked up on me since I was not the one to retaliate or offer them a fist in their faces the minute they begin riling up on me. I was mostly the butt of their jokes, the one ridiculed, and nobody really cared if I was treated that way.

I befriended one of my classmates around this time for a reason that I can never fully explain or explicate up until now. All he did was cause me torture and agony every time I was with him. One time, my childhood friend heard my classmate berate and cuss me at our home. I was used to the constant castigation my classmate dishes out, but it was the first time my childhood friend heard it. Suffice to say, he wanted to put beat the shit out of my classmate, something that I couldn't done before but simply didn't. Because I'm a wuss. And dumb.

I have to give credit where credit is due. He definitely made my life a living hell. I hated going to school because I'll see his stupid face and take the brunt of his stupid ways. I hate the fact that I was reduced to shit during class where I had to sit next to him. So kudos to him, really. A real asshole.

I simply don't understand the stupidity of adolescence trying to be tough and full of it, which is why I fell victim of such treatment. Seriously, there's nothing really worse than teenagers trying to act like they're oh-so-cool. After realizing that I was completely a tad different (i.e. loser) than the other guys at our school, I decided to drift into obscurity and keep a low profile ever since. This was around high school.

I never really had friends. Outside from childhood buddies, school did not produce people whom I felt comfortable with, save for two. The bullying had a profound effect in me that I slowly but surely develop hatred towards everybody. With the exception of a number of people, I hated my classmates who tried to look cool and belong to a clique, hated school for making me mingle and rub shoulders with such students, and hated pop music. Therefore, I was seen most of the time by myself. The only company that I enjoyed were two people who shared my fascination for Starcraft and Tekken, as well as Alice In Chains, Faith No More, and other heavy metal outfits who expressed juvenile hatred like its the most profound emotion ever. "Dirt" by Alice In Chains was my theme song and I took the lyrics to heart simply because I feel exactly like the song.

I never socialized with my classmates, never went to the majority of their wonderful functions, and never attended prom. That's because I never made a female friend until my second year in college.

College was a breath of fresh air at first. I began the first few months of my college life alone at the library sleeping or brushing up on the assigned readings. Soon, I met students who turned out to be good people and shared the same gift of gab that I possess. All the while as I was hanging with them, I felt a certain pleasure that I haven't experienced before around with other people. I thought, maybe I was finally cured from being what I really am. Maybe people aren't really shitty as I thought they are. However, good things don't often last long.

Once you expose your shortcomings and faults to people, they will start turning their backs on you. I felt this the strongest during my senior year. I started exhibiting characteristics of a recluse around this time, eating along at the most desolate and isolated bench in school. Strangely, I like the fact that I am this way, going about my clumsy and geeky ways without the company of others. This was also around the time that I was completely distraught by, you guessed it, a girl.

I was always afraid to mess shit up because one I do, it's all over. A single trip, a wrong word slipping from my mouth, all of these things I cannot bear to think of happening. The worst thing of it all is that messing shit up is always inevitable. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And it happened to me, to her. From their, I never really fully recovered up until half of the year was spent.

All of these memories rushed back to me just a full week ago, also from a particular slipping of the mouth. Again, it was inevitable. The bullying, the isolation, the difficulty of being alone, the rejection, the inadequacies, shortcomings, and other bullshit. It all came full circle.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

People started calling me Benny in grade school. I refused the name simply because it's not part of my first name and is simply a derivation from my last name. However, I eventually relented since everybody started calling me Benny even without my approval. It reached to a point that they called me Benny the Ball (of Top Cat fame) and Benny the Bull (not only of the Chicago Bulls mascot, but also of Nelson Asaytono, the high-scoring power forward of the San Miguel Beermen in the PBA during the mid-'90s). The trend persevered in high school, since I attended the same school.

By the time I was applying for a college, I thought of finally dropping the Benny moniker and start anew using my real name. And so, when college application forms ask for my nickname, I wrote my real nickname. However, I still wrote Benny beside my real nickname because, honestly, I have gotten quite acquainted with it. Still, if I were given a choice which name to use, I'll choose my nickname in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the one who will decide which nickname to use for college. As soon as the letter of the college I eventually attended was handed out from school, the first words from the paper were "Hello, Benny!" My seat-mate could not contain his laughter.

College came and went, but during the four excruciating years that I had to study, flunk exams, study again, and isolate myself from people, I was known as Benny, a monster that consumed who I am.

After college, I have sought to damn and trend and finally get rid of the Benny name. In fact, while working for a part-time job, I introduced myself to him as my real nickname as we met at a local bar to discuss business plans. However, I wasn't expecting a batchmate of mine in college to be also part of the team. She pretty much summed up my sentiments on our timely encounter that evening after finding out that I was using my real nickname and not Benny: "Ang weird." After weeks of hanging out with them, I eventually left for greener pastures.

The first full-time job that I got accepted in, I introduced myself as my real nickname. No more Benny, I said to myself, with a sigh of relief. However, I soon found out that they had a former officemate who goes by the name of my real nickname. And so, for the sake of further confusion and complication, I simply asked them to call me Benny instead.

After almost two years with the company, only the HR people call me with my real nickname. Everybody else refers to me as Benny. Up to now, they, along with my classmates and acquaintances during my academic life, still call me Benny. Hell, even my girlfriend calls me Benny.

To wrap things up, I sometimes find it difficult to introduce myself to other people. I sometimes slip during social coterie and introduce myself as my real nickname to people who don't know me, but most of the people there are familiar with me as Benny. Moreover, I sometimes stall for a couple of seconds whenever I introduce myself to other people: should I use Benny or my real nickname? After that, people comment on how long it took me to say my name, making me appear like I'm stupid or something.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

After realizing that I really didn't have anything to do this afternoon, I decided to clean my room after letting dust settle on my books, magazines, tables, and most of my stuff since the start of the year. I also disposed of the garbage I usually stick inside my drawers since it's been getting difficult opening and closing those damn compartments. Yep, I'm a disorganized mess. Wait, that's a double negative, which really makes me... Nevermind.

Anyway, upon taking out 90% of the stuff inside my room, I stumbled upon my college class picture taken six years ago that I keep inside my drawer. I didn't really enjoy my academic experience, dating back since grade school, so there wasn't anything that would make me nostalgic or even emotional at the very least. However, what actually prevents me from throwing it away is that, along with the picture, there includes pieces of papers of what my blockmates thought about me.

Our college holds dynamic orientations for freshmen students, and one of their activities is to write your name on a piece of paper and pass it to your blockmates where they'll write their impressions about you.

Written below are some of my favorite quips that my fellow classmates have written about me. Some are written out of fun, but most of them are true.

"Magpapari ka ba? Goodluck on your college life. Hope we could all be friends."

"Ok lng...Normal."

Looking back who I was to now, nothing has changed, actually. Sure, life experiences have made me more mature in my decisions and actions, but I essentially still am a retarded ass who can't remember what the Nicomachean Ethics is all about.